


Can You Fix the Broken

by yourbeautysfading



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Death, Alternate Universe - College/University, Hazing, M/M, Murder-Suicide, School Shootings, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:00:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5147831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourbeautysfading/pseuds/yourbeautysfading
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sam dies during an accident, Dean and Cas decide to get their revenge on those responsible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can You Fix the Broken

**Author's Note:**

> ***NOTE***  
>  There is a warning at the end of the story that is a spoiler warning. 
> 
> This is my first DCBB; I hope it turned out okay! Constructive criticism is always welcome. c: I'd really appreciate any feedback. Thanks to my friends Jay, Meaghan, Michii, and an anonymous beta for reading over this. And thank you so, so, SO much to my artist, kuwlshadow on LiveJournal. I'm honored to have worked with her.
> 
> A masterpost of the artist's illustrations can be found at any of the following locations:
> 
> [LiveJournal](http://kuwlshadow.livejournal.com/12607.html)
> 
> [Deviantart](http://dragonflyshell.deviantart.com/gallery/56680707/Can-You-Fix-the-Broken-Illustrations)
> 
> [Tumblr](http://kuwlshadow.tumblr.com/post/132525410523/can-you-fix-the-broken-written-by)
> 
>  

 

“Heeeey, all _right_. Baby brother can hang with the big boys now!” Gabriel Novak exclaimed loudly as Sam Winchester approached in his graduation gown, holding his cap. Castiel, the younger Novak brother, snapped a picture. Sam chuckled, shaking his head.

 

“I’ve been hanging out with you guys for years, Gabe,” he said.

 

Gabriel scoffed. “Yeah, but you were still a baby then, little one. Now you’re a _man_. You just graduated high school! You’ll be hangin’ with us at the college come fall.” He reached up, ruffling Sam’s hair and making him laugh and swat his hand away.

 

“Whatever.”

 

“Sam, congratulations on being valedictorian. We always knew you would be,” Castiel said with a smile.

 

“Thanks Cas.” Sam beamed at him before turning to his own older brother. “Dean, did Dad make it?” he asked hopefully; Dean and Castiel exchanged glances before Dean sighed.

 

“No, Sam. He’s still in Minnesota, said he couldn’t get away.” Their father, John, was a bounty hunter, and he would be gone for weeks at a time. Their mother, Mary, had died in a car accident when Sam was three. He barely remembered her. Sam’s face fell at the news, so Dean quickly added to his statement. “But Cas recorded the whole damn thing for him to watch when he gets home, and we’ll go out and celebrate with him then. Okay? I promise, Sammy.”

 

Gabriel looked between the other three before fishing a lollipop from his pocket, unwrapping it, and sticking it into his mouth. “ _Anyway,_ you two are coming over to our apartment tonight so we can par- _tay_. We’re getting pizza and wings and gonna drink copious amounts of alcohol and fuck off until daylight. What say you to that, partner?” he asked Sam with a wink.

 

Sam couldn’t help it; he laughed. “Sounds good. But right now, I just want to get this trash bag off of me,” he said, starting to take off the black graduation gown he was wearing over his dress clothes.

 

“Wait!” Castiel interjected, pushing Sam’s hands away. “I want to get a picture of you and Dean first.”

 

The youngest of the four nodded and put his graduation cap back on, adjusting the tassel. Dean rolled his eyes as he stepped over to his brother, and the younger, yet taller, boy pulled him easily against his side.

 

“You know I hate pictures, Cas,” Dean grumbled, but he still wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulders and grinned his best proud-older-brother grin.

 

“You’ll thank me for it one day,” Castiel responded easily, and when Sam grinned, his mouth open slightly and his teeth showing, he snapped the picture.

 

When he lowered the camera, Sam immediately tugged off the cap, shoving it into Dean’s hand before pulling the gown over his head. He folded it neatly before taking the cap back.

 

“Ready to go, _compadres_?” Gabriel spoke up.

 

“Definitely,” Dean and Sam answered simultaneously.

 

The Winchesters stopped by their house to change and grab some clothes before going to the Novaks’ apartment. It was seven o’clock in the evening when they arrived, and shortly after, the food was delivered. The four started a Game of Thrones marathon, and with it, they played a drinking game of the same name that Gabriel had found online. By eleven, they were all hammered.

 

During a Joffrey scene, Gabriel threw a nearly empty cup of beer at the television. “Get the fuck offa my TV, _Joffrey_. Eeeeeveryone hates you, ya wanker!” he slurred.

 

Sam seemed to think that was the funniest thing he ever heard and fell back on the floor, howling with laughter. Dean and Castiel exchanged bemused looks over their cups as they took another drink. What was supposed to be just a glance, though, lasted longer. Even after they had lowered their cups, their gazes were still locked, small smiles still in place. Gabriel of course, noticed this, and he nudged Sam. The two smirked at each other and watched their brothers. After a full thirty seconds, they both cleared their throats obnoxiously, trying not to laugh.

 

“If’n you two’re done eye fuckin’,” Gabriel drawled, “we gots some more drinkin’ t’do!”

 

Dean blinked, smile fading, and he looked away from Castiel. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said gruffly, downing the rest of his beer while Castiel stood and stumbled out of the living room, coming back with four more beers.

 

The game continued for another hour before Sam passed out on the living room floor. Gabriel covered him with a blanket, and shortly after, he staggered to his own bedroom.  The other two were left in the living room. They watched another episode together, sans alcohol, sitting close but not quite touching. When it was over, Castiel sighed and said, “’M goin’ to bed, too.”

 

Dean nodded and stood up, taking a moment to steady himself. Castiel brought him some covers and a pillow and helped him turn the couch into a makeshift bed. When his friend was about to go into his room, Dean stopped him. “

 

“Hey, Cas?”

 

Castiel turned, looking at the oldest Winchester, who was walking around the boy sleeping on the floor and moving toward him. “Yes, Dean?”

 

He thought Dean would stop a couple of feet from him like he normally did. He thought he was just going to tell him thank you for coming to Sam’s graduation when his own piece of shit dad couldn’t make it. He thought—

 

Dean didn’t stop until he was toe to toe with Castiel. He cupped Castiel’s face in his hands and leaned in, eyes closed, and firmly pressed their lips together. Castiel’s eyes widened before snapping shut, and he draped his arms around Dean’s neck as he kissed him back. The kiss lasted several seconds, and when it was over, their faces were only inches apart. They stared into one another’s eyes, breathing each other’s breaths, and then Dean’s lips quirked into a half smile. He patted one of Castiel’s cheeks. “Night, Cas,” he said, and then he turned and went back into the living room.

 

Castiel stood in the doorway of his room dumbly, staring after Dean as he raised one hand and touched his lips. Finally, he sighed. “Good night, Dean,” he murmured, even though Dean wouldn’t be able to hear him from the living room, and he retreated into his bedroom.

 

The only person awake before noon the next morning was Sam and the only reason he was awake was because he had to run to the bathroom to vomit up everything in his stomach. When they were all awake and hungover as shit, they assembled in the living room and started cleaning up their mess from the night before.

 

During the clean up, Dean and Castiel found themselves in the kitchen. “Dean, about last night,” Castiel started.

 

“Man, I was so drunk last night,” Dean laughed, interrupting Castiel. “I don’t remember shit about it.”

 

Castiel turned to his friend, and Dean met his gaze with a look. A look that seemed to say he remembered it, that maybe he regretted it, Castiel didn’t know. A look that meant he certainly didn’t want to talk about it. Castiel turned away.

 

“Of course. We all were. I don’t think any of us remember last night,” he sighed.

 

Dean tied the garbage bag in his hands and carried it out, and that was the end of the conversation. They never spoke of it again, but over the summer, every time the four of them got together, they drank. And every time, Dean and Castiel ended up kissing when the others were asleep. They kissed a _lot_ , and sometimes they did more, even fucking a couple of times. but they never talked about it. Dean always said he was too drunk to remember anything that happened. It hurt, but Castiel took whatever he could get, tucking those drunken moments away safe in his heart. Gabriel and Sam never knew, although they always teased the other two boys about how they just needed to fuck to cut the sexual tension, and Dean always waved them off. All too soon, the school year rolled back around, and it was like the things they had done that summer had never happened. The four were all enrolled in the same college, although Dean was taking online classes only so he could work full-time.

 

“I’m trying to join Alpha Kappa Psi,” Sam informed Dean at the dinner table one night just after school started.

 

Dean scoffed around his bite of food, but for once, he waited until he was finished with that bite to actually speak.  

 

“You’re trying to join what?” 

 

“AKPsi. It’s the largest and oldest business fraternity, and I want in.” 

 

“You mean you want to walk around in popped collars and loafers and reek of douchebaggery.” 

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “That’s not how all fraternity members dress.” He shrugged, taking another bite. When he swallowed it, he continued. “Besides, some other initiates and I have already started the hazing. So if I’m late coming home one night, don’t worry. It’s just because I have things to do.” 

 

“Hazing? You’re actually going through that? What are they making you do?” 

 

He shook his head. “We aren’t allowed to talk about the hazing, so I can’t tell you.” 

 

“Oh, come on! Like anyone’s going to know you told me.” 

 

“Sorry, Dean. I can’t take that chance.” 

 

Dean huffed. “Whatever.” A large bite of spaghetti was shoveled into his mouth. “Is it at least co-ed?” he asked around a mouthful of food. 

 

Sam nodded. “Yes, Dean. It’s co-ed now.” 

 

“Well. At least try to get a pretty girl out of the deal.” Dean smirked, pouring more parmesan cheese onto the spaghetti. His younger brother just rolled his eyes again. “And stop rolling your eyes. They’ll get stuck in the back of your head if you aren’t careful.” 

 

“Dean. I have a girlfriend. Jess, remember? And I’m eighteen, not five. Do you really think I’ll fall for that?" 

 

“Can’t hurt to try it anyway. I’m pretty sure you’re just a big six-year-old with floppy hair.” 

 

Sam shoved him, making Dean laugh. They ate in silence for several minutes, then began to clean up when the food was eaten. Dean put the excess spaghetti in a baggie, zipped it up, and stuck it in the freezer.

 

“When’s Dad coming home? Have you heard anything from him?” Sam asked as he filled the sauce pan with soap and water. 

 

“Jesus, Sammy. Are you going to ask every night? Are you positive you aren’t a little kid still?” Dean asked, standing at the ready to dry the dishes after Sam had washed them. Dean really needed to look at the dishwasher or get someone professional to look at it; it stopped working about a month before. It was their dad’s job to take care of things like that. Dean thought it was, anyway. He’d still probably call a professional soon, though; he was getting fucking tired of hand washing dishes. “I don’t know when he’s coming home. And no, I haven’t heard from him in nearly a week, even though I’ve called him and left him messages. You know how he is, though, when he’s on a job. All work, no fucking around with anything that doesn’t have to do with work. It’s always been that way.” 

 

“Yeah, but I thought he said this time would be different.” 

 

“He said he’d stop drinking, too, and we both know he’s just as likely to be sitting in a bar as he is actually working. You should know he’s not a man of his word.” The pots and plates were washed and dried by then, and Dean put them away. “At least he still sends money to help out around here and at least the house is paid for so we don’t have to figure out how we’re going to afford rent, right?” 

 

“Yeah, he sends money he gets hustling pool.”  

 

Dean shrugged. “Money is money. Every little bit helps.” He had hustled a few pool games himself, so that wasn’t a big deal to him. “Now listen, we could go back and forth about this all night, but it doesn’t change anything in the end. I have some reading to do for Biology, some for World Civilizations, and some problems in Statistics I need to be working on. I’m sure you have homework, too, Mr. I’m-Going-to-Take-18-Hours. Forget about that stupid fraternity. You’re better than all of them. Go crack open those books.” 

 

Sam huffed. “Dean, I’m not forgetting about AKPsi. I’m going to join it no matter what I have to do.”

 

With that, he turned and walked out of the kitchen to his bedroom. Dean shook his head, but he couldn’t argue. His brother was as stubborn as they come once he had his heart set on something. And apparently, his heart and his head were both set on joining. Would he go live in a frat house after he got in? God, Dean hoped not. He didn’t think he could deal with Sam having a full-fledged crash course in being a douchebag.  

 

Leaving the kitchen after grabbing a beer, Dean went to his bedroom, down the hall from Sam’s. He read for World Civilizations and did the Statistics problems, but before he started reading for Biology, he decided to call Castiel. He answered on the third ring. “Hello?” 

 

“Hey, Cas.” 

 

“Hello, Dean.” 

 

Dean had always felt a little thrill hearing Castiel say his name like that, the deep, almost scratchy sound of Castiel’s voice. He always ignored that thrill, too. “Guess what I found out at dinner tonight?” 

 

“I can’t read your mind, Dean. Tell me.” 

 

“That’s why you’re supposed to  _guess_. Jesus… Anyway, Sam wants to join a fraternity.” 

 

Castiel was quiet for a few seconds.  “Okay. And?” 

 

“And?  _And?_  And they’re going to turn him into a grade-A asshole!” 

 

He heard his friend sigh on the other end of the line. “Not all members of fraternities are, as you so eloquently call them, assholes. Most of them are just normal people who join because it looks good on a resume. Which one is he joining?” 

 

“Yeah, whatever. Uh, something Psi. AKPsi?” 

 

“That’s a prestigious business one. Michael was a member of that. It’s a good fraternity.” 

 

Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead. “If you say so. But they’re hazing him and he won’t even tell me what they’re doing!” 

 

“They’re not supposed to tell anyone. It’s part of the initiation. He’s just doing what he has to to get in.” 

 

“You aren’t helping by taking his side, Cas.” 

 

“My apologies,” Castiel said. “I just see nothing wrong with him joining. He’ll make a lot of friends that way, as well, and you’re always saying you wished he had more friends.”  

 

They spoke a few more minutes before Dean said he had to go and hung up. Castiel was supposed to take his side. Maybe he was just being too harsh about this whole thing. That didn’t mean he liked it, though. He definitely didn’t like it. There was just nothing he could do. He took a shower and decided just to ignore it. Maybe if he ignored it, Sam would give up on it. That was unlikely, though; Sam was a stubborn fuck. 

It was a month into the school year. The eighteen-year-old had gone through hazing, from bullying to humiliation. He had done it all, though, and he was sure he would be initiated. He and his friend Brady sat together, eating a late lunch. Brady was already in Alpha Kappa Psi.

 

“I hate to tell you this, Sam, but the other guys… they really don’t want you to be in AKPsi with us. They say you would disgrace the fraternity because of your family situation. I told them to give you a chance, but they don’t want to.” 

 

“That’s such bullshit!” Sam exclaimed. “What about my ‘family situation’ don’t they like? That we’re poor compared to them? That my mom is dead and my dad is hardly ever home? Why does my home life matter to them? They’re not the ones living it.”

 

Brady sighed. “I know. I don’t know why it matters to Crowley, but it does. He looks down on everyone who isn’t super rich like him, and I know that he hates Dean, although I don’t know how he knows him or why he hates him. It’s mostly those two reasons he doesn’t want you in, and he’s the president of the fraternity.”

 

“But I’ve done everything that they’ve asked of me so far. The initiation is over, right? They’re supposed to take everyone who passed their hazing, and I did.” 

 

“I know,” Brady said again. “But they said they have a special hazing they want just you to do to prove you’d be good for the fraternity. I wish they’d just take my word for it, but they won’t.” They ate in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before Sam spoke again. 

 

“Then I’ll do it. I’m not scared. What’s the worst they could do? When is it?” 

 

Frowning, Brady pushed at his food. “Tomorrow night? Meet us at the mall parking lot around ten-thirty. I can’t tell you what they’re planning, you know that, but if you don’t go through with it, I would definitely not blame you.” He looked up at Sam. “I don’t like it. Not one bit. And you can bet your ass I’ll be there for moral support. You need  _someone_  on your side there.” 

 

“Come on, Brady. You’re my best friend. You’ve known me for years now. Just tell me what I’m up against. Fuck not being allowed to tell me. How would they know?” 

 

“Well, I’m pretty sure they’d guess it when you didn’t show up.” 

 

Sam sighed. “Just tell me, seriously. I’ll tell them I’m tired of trying to prove myself if I don’t want to do it.” They went back and forth for another minute before Brady sighed, as well, running a hand through his hair. 

 

“They want you to sit in your car with a hose attached to your exhaust pipe and the other end in the car. They want to see how long you can last before you pass out, and when you’re about to pass out, you can get out.” 

 

“No way. No fucking way.” Sam laughed at the absurdity of it. “You can’t be serious. Don’t they know how dangerous that shit is?” 

 

Brady shrugged. “ _I_  do, but I don’t know about them. They say it’ll prove you’re tough enough to belong to our fraternity, which is bullshit because you don’t have to be strong to be in the frat. That’s why I said you should just give up on it. It isn’t worth it.” 

 

Sam shook his head. “Don’t worry; I’m not going to do it.” Brady’s tense expression immediately relaxed. 

 

“Thank you. I’ll tell the guys that you told me you’re tired of trying to please them. I’ll try to talk them into still letting you in the fraternity since you made it through all of the other hazing, but I’m not sure it will work.” 

 

“Whatever. That’s so ridiculous. I can’t believe they’d put someone’s life on the line like that.” It was time for class then, so they walked together, laughing and joking to forget the lunch conversation. 

 

When Sam got home that night, he called Jess, his girlfriend. They had been dating since freshman year of high school. He told her about the final hazing. He just couldn’t believe they’d do something so… so… dangerous. He didn’t realize that Dean overheard him explaining the hazing, but when he came out of his room, he was cornered by his brother. 

 

“You’re not doing that,” he said. 

 

“Doing what?” 

 

“That hazing. Do you realize you could be killed?” 

 

Sam shrugged. “I’m not going to.” 

 

“I don’t believe you. You’re so stubborn and want in there so badly, you’d do anything.” 

 

“Not that. I’m not stupid, Dean.” 

 

“No, but you’ll do anything to get what you want.” 

 

“I  _said_ I’m not doing it,” Sam said in exasperation, rolling his eyes. Dean pulled out his phone and dialed. “Who are you calling?” 

 

“I’m calling Dad. He needs to know what you’re planning.” 

 

“Jesus  _Christ_ , Dean! I’ve already told you I’m not going to do it! Fuck. How many more times do I have to say it?!” 

 

Dean waved him off. “Dad? Dad, you answered! Finally. Listen, Sam’s trying to get into some fraternity, and he’s going through the hazing, and they want him to poison himself with carbon monoxide. Yeah, by sitting in his car. Talk to him.” The phone was thrust in Sam’s face. Sam gave Dean a sharp look, his face stormy as he took the phone. 

 

“Hey, Dad. Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t know why Dean is bothering you with this. I’ve already told him five times I’m not doing it.” Sam rolled his eyes as John tried to talk sense into him and make him not do it. He tried to argue and soon they were in a yelling match. Finally, Sam snapped the phone shut and threw it onto the counter. “I  _told_  you I’m not doing that but fuck it." 

 

He went back to his bedroom and texted Brady.  _I’ll be there tomorrow night._  

 

The following morning, he left a note saying he and Jess were hanging out after classes and a study group meeting, so he’d be back late. He didn’t need his older brother looking out for him every waking moment. He could do some things on his own, and if what Brady said was true and they didn’t want him because of his home life, they sure as fuck wouldn’t allow him in the fraternity if Dean showed up and made a scene. A ball of nervous energy settled in the pit of his stomach and remained there the entire day. It didn’t mix well with the anger filling his chest left over from the night before. 

 

After classes were over, he called Dean. It went to voicemail so he left a message reminding him that he and Jess were studying for a quiz in Spanish on Monday and then hanging out, but there was leftover pizza in the fridge. He found Baby, Dean’s beloved Impala, at Dean’s work. Not wanting to disturb him when he was busy, Sam put another note in it.  _Don’t wait up for me, jerk. See you later._  He and Jess studied for three and a half hours together and then he went to eat at the Roadhouse to kill some time. When he made it to the mall parking lot at ten-ten, no one else was there except the cars of the workers who were still inside closing down the stores. He parked away from them, in the light of a streetlamp so the others would see his car, and he got out, sitting on the hood. By ten-thirty, Brady and three other boys had pulled up in two cars.

 

“Hello, Samantha,” Crowley drawled in his British accent as he stepped out of his car. “Fancy meeting you here. Are you ready for your last task?” 

 

Sam gritted his teeth at the nickname but forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, of course I am. Just tell me what I need to do.” 

 

“Atta boy. I know you’ll do well with this.” Crowley gave Sam one of his charming smiles, but it just made Sam more nervous. The fraternity member went to the back seat of his car and removed a long hose from it. “Do you know what you’ll be using this for, Samantha?” 

 

“I still don’t like this,” Brady interjected.  “Sam, just say no to it. You don’t have to do it; it’s stupid.” 

 

“Shut up, you little twit,” Crowley snapped. Then, regaining his composure, he turned back to Sam. “Answer my question.” 

 

“I have an idea,” Sam replied. “But tell me so I can get on with this.” 

 

“That’s the spirit. Now, we’re going to attach one end of the tailpipe of your car. The other end is going to be inside your car with you…while the car is turned on. Stay in the car no matter what, and once you’re close to passing out, we’ll remove the hose and get you out of the car, and you’ll be one of us. How does that sound?” 

 

“It sounds like you want me to try to kill myself.” 

 

“Nonsense. Brady here will be the one to watch and pull the hose out. He’s your friend, isn’t he? What do you have to worry about?” Crowley asked. Sam looked to Brady, who shook his head. 

 

“Don’t do it,” he said again. “Please. Just… just forget about it.” 

 

Sam clenched his jaw. There was no forgetting about it. He wanted to be in this fraternity, had wanted it for a while, so he was going to join it, dammit. “Go ahead,” he said, but then he took the hose himself and attached it to his tailpipe. “You’ll pull it out?” he asked Brady, who sighed and nodded. 

 

“Yeah, I will.” Sam nodded before pushing the hose through his open window, holding it in place as he got inside. He closed the door and rolled the window up until the hose was the only thing stopping it from being completely closed. Seconds later, he started the car. 

 

The stench of the exhaust immediately filled his nostrils and made its way into his mouth, making him gag. It wafted through the air, and he gagged again. The third time he gagged, he vomited, but he didn’t open the car door because then he would have been disqualified, and he was  _going_  to get in. He had worked too hard for this. The smell of his vomit mixed with the exhaust only made him feel worse. Sam was lightheaded, but he ignored it. When he glanced out of the car, Crowley had Brady engaged in a conversation. 

 

A couple of minutes passed. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t. But he had to. He couldn’t catch his breath to save his life. All he could smell was the vomit on the console and himself. Sam pounded on the window, trying to make any of the three guys there look at him, but they didn’t. He could hear Brady yelling at Crowley, saw him gesturing angrily, but he couldn’t make out the words being spoken. The lightheadedness was getting worse. He vomited again, hating himself for making a mess in his car. He’d have to clean it … up… tomorrow. 

 

He couldn’t do… this… anymore, though. Weakly, he pushed down the window, watching the hose drop. Brady hadn’t kept his promise. Then again, he had lost his chance at getting into the fraternity. He opened the door, only to fall out of the car as he lost consciousness. He never heard Brady yelling for him or Crowley’s snide remarks about how he couldn’t do anything right. 

 

“Shit. Shit.  _Shit!_ ” Brady exclaimed, trying to wake Sam up. “Guys, help me!” Crowley watched, shaking his head.  

 

“Leave him as he is. Someone’s bound to find him. And they’ll label it a suicide attempt when they take him to the hospital. He’ll be fine, Brady. Now we really need to leave.” Crowley and the other young men with them got back in Crowley’s car and left without another word. Brady hesitated, still trying to wake Sam, and then, in a panic, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed. 

 

“9-1-1, please state your emergency.” 

 

“Yeah, uh... I found a guy who…he’s hurt. He’s unresponsive and I don’t know what to do. We’re at the mall. Please, please send an ambulance for him. I’ll wait with him.” He answered few more questions as best he could before hanging up and putting his head in his hands. “ _Fuck_.” He tried again to rouse Sam, but it was to no avail. When the ambulance got there, he stood, and answered what questions he could. Sam was loaded onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. Sirens wailing, they took off, leaving Brady behind with the cops, who brought him down to the station to give his statement. When the ambulance reached the hospital, they called John. 

“Dean? Dean, it’s Sam. I’m on my way home.” John’s voice came from the other end of the phone line, having called Dean after he'd heard the news and snapping Dean out of his sleep-filled haze and into attention immediately. 

 

“What? What happened?” 

 

“I’ll be there soon.” Dean felt his heart sink.  

 

“What happened?” he repeated. 

 

“Go to the hospital and wait on me. I don’t know anything more than I’ve told you aside from the fact that he is in Forsythe Hospital and the phone call I had with him last night. I kept asking, but the hospital would only say to please come to the facility. I’ll be there in an hour, maybe less.” His father hung up, leaving the dial tone a distant hum in Dean’s ear. After a second, he shut his phone, then shot out of bed and dressed. He headed outside, hopping out to Baby as he pulled on his boots. He climbed into the Impala and revved the engine before peeling out of the driveway. 

 

It should have taken thirty minutes to get to the hospital from their house. He was there in fifteen. Dean told them that he was Samuel Winchester’s brother and he demanded to see him, dammit! They wouldn’t let him back, though, until John got there. Finally, finally they were led to Sam’s room. “He’s on life support,” the nurse told them. “It was an apparent suicide attempt gone wrong. It seemed as though he had changed his mind about wanting to die, but by then the damage had been done. He has severe carbon monoxide poisoning and is in a coma.” 

 

John nodded quietly, watching his son lying in the hospital bed hooked up to numerous machines. They had some alone time with him then, John taking the first few minutes and Dean taking the last. 

 

“Hey… hey Sammy,” he murmured, taking his brother’s hand. “They’re sayin’ you tried to kill yourself, but we both know that that isn’t true. Don’t we, Sammy? You were too full of life, had a bright future ahead of you. There’s no way you would have offed yourself now, of all times. You said you weren’t going to do this, remember? You’re fucking stupid for going along with something so dangerous. You better wake up so I can kick your ass… You just… I need you to wake up, Sammy. Please.” Dean sighed and leaned his forehead against their hands. “C’mon, Sam. I know you can do it.” Nothing. Dean left the room and headed down the hospital corridors. When he found an area with little activity, he cursed, slamming his fist against the wall. The pain in his hand helped mask the pain in his heart and mind. He called Castiel then, even though it was the middle of the night. “Cas, man, answer your fucking pho—Cas?” 

 

“Hello, Dean.” 

 

A rush of relief swept over him. “Cas, man, this day.” 

 

“Why are you calling me so late?” 

 

“It’s Sam.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “He’s… he’s hurt, Cas.” 

 

“What happened?” The gruffness of his voice was evident; Dean wasn’t sure if it was because he was still waking up or if it was because of Dean’s news. It was probably a mixture of both. 

 

“I don’t know. They said it was a suicide attempt. I don’t believe them, though. It was that stupid fraternity. He’s on life support now, and just… Can you come here and see him? I know it’s late but I need someone here with me other than my dad because you know how well we get along. He’s already blaming me for not watching out for Sammy when it was my only job in the family—to make sure Sam was safe at all times. And I failed at it.” His voice cracked slightly, so he cleared his throat and blinked a couple of times. After filling Castiel in on what he knew, he asked again for his friend to come to the hospital. Castiel agreed, saying to give him a few minutes to get dressed and he’d be on his way.  

 

Dean snapped his phone shut and paced the hallway. He hit the wall again, then leaned against it, looking across the hall at Sam’s room. He was hooked up to all kinds of machines, monitoring everything under the sun and keeping Sam alive. Keeping Sam alive. Dean had never thought machines would be supporting Sam’s life. Fuck.  _Fuck._  And it was all his fault. Sam had said he wasn’t going to do that; he may have pushed him  _into_ doing it. He wiped at his eyes quickly before pushing off the wall and going back to the door. John was in there, and Dean moved into the room and sat beside him silently. 

 

“You had one job, Dean,” John said gruffly. “Your job was to keep Sam safe. Look what happened. I should have never left you in charge so often.” 

 

Dean said nothing, just stared straight ahead at Sam’s bed, his gaze flicking up occasionally to look at the monitors. He didn’t move until Castiel called, asking for the room number. When he received that call, he went back to the hallway, walking to meet his friend. Upon returning to the hospital room, he found John going out.  

 

“I’m going home to get some sleep. They said they would call if his condition changed,” John said. Dean nodded, and he and Castiel went into the hospital room. Castiel stood at the foot of Sam’s bed, looking at him silently. 

 

“It wasn’t a suicide attempt,” Dean spoke, breaking the silence. “Sam was too happy with life to want to kill himself. I know it wasn’t a suicide.” 

 

“You think it was the hazing, then? Sam being too stubborn to say no? I thought you said he wasn't going to do it,” Castiel told his friend. 

 

“I know it was. He left me a note saying not to wait up for him, and he’d been talking nonstop about trying to get into that fucking fraternity. Then we got into an argument where he was saying he wasn’t going to do it but I… I didn’t believe him so I called Dad and then  _they_  got into an argument and then this happened. His friend Brady is the one who called 9-1-1 and he was in that fraternity. I don’t have any way to prove it but I know that it was them.” 

 

The two sat in silence for a while, Dean sniffling occasionally but trying not to show it. “I’m gonna stay here with him,” he told Castiel. “You don’t have to stay. I just… needed someone here for a little while. Thanks man.” 

 

“Of course, Dean. I always come when you call. I do not mind staying here with you.” 

 

“Nah, I think they’ll only let one person stay. You can go on home.” 

 

Castiel nodded, but he sat with Dean a while longer until Dean set up the chair in the room as a makeshift bed, using the blanket and pillow a nurse had brought in for him. “Good night, Dean,” he said then, and Dean gave him a weak smile.

 

“Night, Cas.” 

 

Dean missed three days of online classes, only leaving Sam’s side long enough to get food, shit, or shower. Castiel came every day and sat with Dean and Sam for a few hours. He brought Dean’s laptop so he could still do the work if he wanted to. Gabriel came, as well, though he was eerily quiet most of the time. John would come by and sit for a couple of hours also, talking to doctors daily about Sam’s prognosis. On the fourth day, John came into the room and sat down beside Dean, who was currently alone. “I requested they take him off life support,” he said bluntly. 

 

Whipping his head around, Dean stared at John. “No way. No fucking way. He’ll get better; he has to get better.” 

 

“He’s not going to. The doctors said there is no brain activity. He’s gone, Dean. We have to let him go. I called the school and told them about the phone call you made to me the night before this happened, and they’re investigating it. It’s all over the news. I think they’re going to close this chapter of AKPsi down if they find enough evidence. One of the boys in the chapter stepped out and confirmed what happened. Brady, Bradley… something. The boys that were there that night may be facing jail time, but he might get out of it for aiding the police. We’ve done everything we can do.” 

 

“No. You’re giving up on Sammy. I’m not. He’ll pull through this. He has to.” 

 

“He’s  _gone_ , Dean. They’re coming in in just a minute to take him off life support.” About the time the words left his mouth, a doctor and a nurse came in. Dean didn’t even listen to what they had to say, but when they neared Sam’s bed he spoke.  

 

“You touch anything that will make him die and I’ll rip your throat out.”

 

The doctor and nurse seemed startled, but the doctor spoke politely and repeated what John had just told him. Dean shook his head, burying his face in his hands. The doctor apologized, and then it was over. Minutes later he heard them writing down the time of death and apologizing again for their loss. Dean pressed his face deeper into his hands.

 

“ _Sam!”_  he cried out, his voice muffled. John patted Dean’s shoulder and went over to Sam’s body, kissing his forehead and speaking softly. Then he left the room.  

 

Dean stayed until told he had to leave, and even then he sat in his car in the parking lot, only really showing his emotions when he was completely alone. He leaned his forehead against his steering wheel, closing his eyes. “Fuck! No! No,  _fuck_  no… Sam.  _Sammy_!”

 

His voice cracked and the levy broke. He sat there, and once the gut-wrenching sobs subsided into hiccups and sniffles, he wiped his eyes and sat up straight. Another fifteen minutes later, he backed out of his parking space and headed away from the hospital. He couldn’t go home; John was there and was the last person he wanted to see. Instead, he went to his home away from home: Castiel’s apartment. 

 

Dean knocked on the door when he arrived at the apartment, a strange thing to do because he normally just walked right in. Castiel answered the door since Gabriel wasn’t home, and when he saw Dean standing there instead of being at the hospital, he knew.

 

“Dean,” he said softly, opening the door. “Dean, I am so sorry.” He stepped back to let Dean into the apartment, and then he enveloped him in an embrace. Dean clung to Castiel, gripping fistfuls of his shirt and hiding his face in the other’s shoulder. 

 

“He’s gone. Sammy’s gone,” he mumbled, his words muffled by the shirt. Castiel heard them plainly, though, regardless. “Dad had them pull the fucking p-plug.” 

 

Castiel rubbed Dean’s back, shushing him softly and offering any solace he could but not knowing what to do. They stood there in the entryway, holding onto each other, not saying anything. A few minutes passed, and Dean looked up, eyes shining and cheeks wet. Castiel met his gaze, but before he could say anything, Dean leaned in and kissed him. It was unexpected—sure, they had had those drunken nights over the summer where they had fooled around a bit after Sam or Gabriel had gone to bed but this, being sober… This was different. Still, Castiel kissed him back with everything he had.  _I’m here for you, Dean. I’m always here for you._  

 

“Cas,” Dean whispered, his breath against Castiel’s lips. “ _Cas_.” 

 

“I’ve got you, Dean,” he murmured. He stroked Dean’s back until the other pulled away. Dean headed for his bedroom, so Castiel followed. He could see his friend reach up, knowing he was trying to wipe the tears away without being obvious. Castiel wasn’t going to mention it; he knew better. When they were in the room, he closed the door. “Would you like to watch a movie?” he asked quietly, trying to give Dean some distraction. Apparently, though, a movie wasn’t the distraction Dean wanted.  

 

Dean slipped off his jacket, then his shirt and undershirt, dropping them all to the ground. He stepped over to Castiel, kissing him again deeply and working his fingers underneath Castiel’s shirt, stroking his hip bones before pushing the shirt up. Castiel allowed it, returning the kiss with everything in him. If this was what Dean needed, who was he to deny it? Dean broke the kiss to remove Castiel’s shirt, and then he backed up to the bed, tugging Castiel with him. When the backs of his legs hit the bed, Dean sat down, pulling his friend onto his lap.  

“Dean,” Castiel started, his voice slightly more rough than usual. 

 

“Shh.” Dean kissed him again, taking Castiel’s breath away. “Don’t talk.” 

 

Castiel nodded, watching as Dean kissed his clavicle and smoothed his hands down Castiel’s chest. He could hear the slight hitches in Dean’s breaths, saw him sniff occasionally, and knew he was trying to distract himself any way he could. Even if he was just a distraction, Castiel loved this. He had always been enamored with Dean, who laughed it off when they were sober but was so, so good to him when they were wasted. He had wanted their first time together sober to be under… better circumstances. They had fucked a few times when they’d both been drunk, but it had never happened when they were both sober. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, though, and Dean needed this. Castiel always gave Dean what he needed. He wanted to give Dean the world, if only Dean would take it. 

 

Dean kissed down Castiel’s chest, tongue flicking over his nipple before sucking on it, feeling it pebble between his lips. Castiel’s breath hitched, and Dean kissed him again before lifting his friend’s hips and tugging down his lounge pants. Castiel moved off of him and kicked away his pants and underwear, moving to sit on the bed beside Dean, who immediately stood and unfastened his pants. He kicked off his boots, removed his socks, and wriggled out of his jeans and boxer briefs before climbing onto the bed.  

 

He caged Castiel with his arms, kissing him once more, their teeth clashing at the impact. Then he stroked Castiel’s chest, reaching down soon enough and tracing fingertips along Castiel’s length. He was already half hard, something he hated admitting but Dean didn’t seem to mind. Castiel moaned softly, leaning his head back against the pillows, breath wavering as fingers wrapped around his dick. The kisses continued to come, breaking only long enough to steal a breath or two before their mouths were sealed together once more. Dean stroked Castiel, swallowing the other’s gasps and moans. When he was fully erect, Dean released him, causing a whine to slip out even though he tried to hold it back. He reached into Castiel’s nightstand, pulling out the bottle of lubricant and finding a condom after feeling around in the drawer, and pressed them into his friend’s hand. He lay back then, looking up at the other.

 

“Come on.”  

 

It wasn’t the first time they’d done this, but Castiel was still a little…unsure. He looked at the items, then back to Dean. He was so broken… and his brokenness was evident. Still… He popped open the bottle and poured a bit of the liquid onto his fingertips. Leaning down over Dean, he kissed him gently as he coaxed a finger inside his friend. He took his time, even when Dean begged him to hurry the fuck up. When he was sure Dean was adequately prepared, Castiel settled in between his legs and rolled on the condom, adding a generous amount of lubricant afterward. Lining himself up, he leaned over him, kissing him as he pushed inside him. He grunted, wrapping arms around Castiel and digging his nails into his friend’s back. Once he was fully inside Dean, Castiel waited, ignoring Dean’s pleas to just fucking  _move_ , until he felt the other had adjusted fully. He started out slowly, though he quickened the pace at Dean’s begging for it to be faster, harder, Jesus fucking  _Christ_  Cas! Castiel stroked Deans dick in time with his thrusts, soft curses or praises falling from his lips with each breath. They came simultaneously, and then Castiel pulled out and lay beside Dean, pulling him close. His friend had started crying again, and Castiel held him in silence, rubbing his back. 

 

Dean fell asleep, still wrapped in Castiel’s arms. He held his friend all through the night, waking a couple of times when Dean woke crying, smoothing his hair or wiping his tears. Sometimes Dean was still asleep when he cried, and he just tightened his arms around him, trying to let him know he was still right there. That he wasn’t completely alone. Dean didn’t say anything about their night the next morning… but it happened again that night. He stayed at Castiel’s apartment for the next few days, both because he didn’t want to face John and because that house held way too many memories. Hell, even Castiel’s place held too many memories, but it was at least bearable. They had sex any time the memories became too hard to handle, any time the world became too loud. It always ended with Dean crying into Castiel’s chest, clinging to his friend as though Castiel was the only thing to ground him, to hold him here. His classes were online, so he at least kept up with them, even though he didn’t want to do so.

 

The funeral came and went. John told Dean he had to go out of town again, but he’d be back as soon as he could be. Dean didn’t believe him, nor did he go back to his house. He worked, tried to stay caught up in his classes, and continued staying with Castiel, chipping in to help with rent, bills, and groceries. Gabriel didn’t argue about their new flatmate, not minding having the oldest Winchester living with them. 

 

One night after another bout of sex, Dean spoke.

 

"Crowley and the others don’t deserve to live. Brady might, since he did at least try to help… but Crowley needs to die,” he said, turning his head to look at Castiel. Castiel studied him through the darkness. 

 

“He deserves some kind of punishment. Death may be a bit extreme, though.” 

 

“He's the whole reason Sam is dead!” Dean replied. “...And I am. If I had listened to him… this wouldn’t have happened.” He was quiet for a moment. “So I’ll kill Crowley and whoever else gets in my way… and then I’ll kill myself.” 

 

“Don’t talk like that, Dean. You won’t kill anyone.” 

 

Dean gave him a hard look. “Watch me,” he said, his expression unreadable. Castiel could tell when Dean was just talking out of his ass. This was not one of those times. He meant it. It made Castiel shiver.  

 

“Do you think Sam would want you to get revenge? Or want you to kill yourself? Don’t you think he’d want you to do something constructive rather than cause devastation, fear, and pain?” 

 

“I really don’t give a shit what Sam would want. I want Sam to still be alive, but we don’t always get what we want, do we?” Dean asked, snorting softly and rolling onto his side, facing away from Castiel. “It’s going to happen. I just have to pick the right time.” 

 

Castiel sighed but said nothing, just pressed against Dean’s back, his knees slotting behind Dean’s and his arm wrapping around his friend’s waist. Dean would never say they were dating, but it had been all that Castiel had wanted for years. He supposed this sex with a broken man and the cuddling after would be the best he’d get. At least it was something. They were quiet for a while, lying there lost in their own thoughts. Castiel decided it would be better to talk about that in the morning… or another day entirely. Eventually they both fell asleep, their breathing slow, synchronous, and even. 

 

Dean didn’t bring it up again until a week later, but Castiel hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind. Dean was his best friend and now his lover, even if his friend would never think of him as a lover. They had been best friends since a young age. Dean kept most people at an arm’s length from him; Castiel and Sam were the only people he had let get close to him. Maybe Gabriel, too, but he was still not as close as the others; he’d been closer to Sam and was dealing with his friend’s death in his own way. Castiel had always blindly followed Dean anywhere he went, down whatever path he took. He had always tried to protect Dean, and if he couldn’t protect him, he made the same mistakes as Dean so he wouldn’t be alone, at least, if things went wrong. But now this. Dean…wanted to kill people. And himself. And even though he hated admitting it, he was attached to Dean—everyone could tell that just by looking at them together. Castiel often heard people joke that he looked at Dean like the other had hung the moon and the stars, and maybe he did. Maybe he wished on every shooting star that, one day, Dean would be his. Was that really so bad, though? But this…  

 

He tried to talk Dean out of it when he brought it up again, but Dean wasn’t listening to his reasoning.

 

“Either you’re in this with me, or you’re not. I’m not asking you to be in it. But if you’re not, don’t try to stop me.” 

 

Castiel knew it would do no good. Dean had his heart and mind set on this, and nothing would change it. He tried to imagine life without Dean in it, as he had done in the past… but he couldn’t. He couldn’t imagine living in a world without Dean Winchester, or even a world with Dean Winchester in another state. If he couldn’t be by Dean’s side… He didn’t want to live, either. After a couple of days of reflection, Castiel sat down beside him on the picnic table in the shade in the park near his house. 

 

“What is our plan of action?” he asked. “What have you got worked out so far?” 

 

Dean looked up from his notebook, startled by Castiel’s words. “…Our?” he repeated dumbly. 

 

“Yes, Dean. Our. I can’t let you do something stupid on your own.” 

 

Dean stared at him. “You do realize what’s going to happen, right?” he asked, his voice low. “We’re going to kill people, and I don’t know about you, but then I’m going to kill myself. If you go along with me, you’ll either face a lot of prison time or die with me. Those are pretty grim choices.” 

 

“I know,” he admitted. “I’ve thought about it ever since you first brought it up… And I can’t imagine a world without you. So, you know, I’ll follow you to the end. We’ll go down swinging, right?” Castiel gave him a weak smile before leaning over and looking at Dean’s notes. “So what all do you have figured out?” 

 

Dean shifted slightly in his seat. “Well, I know the frat house is shut down, but I still want to get rid of it. And there may be others, but I know Crowley was the mastermind behind this plan. He’s going to die. I’m going to figure out a way to get to him. Brady… Brady should have done something, but at least he’s working with the police and shit. And he tried and stayed there with him. I’ll spare him. I don’t really care who else from the fraternity is there, though. Crowley has to pay no matter what. He  _has_  to be killed. It was his idea. Did you know he was actually arrested but was released on bail? He has a court date sometime… I don’t know when. So this has to happen before that. Life in prison isn’t a good enough end for him. He deserves to die.” He nodded as he spoke, writing a little. “My dad owns enough guns and ammunition that I won’t have to worry about buying any or getting a license or whatever. I can just take them from my dad’s gun closet. No big deal.” Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair before looking over at Castiel. “Can you think of anything I’m missing?” 

 

Castiel shrugged. “I have never done anything like this, so I am not sure. I do know that I don’t necessarily agree with shooting anyone in the way, but I have heard that Crowley mostly hangs out with people from that fraternity. If we can find out the best place for him to hang out with the most people from there, that would be better, I believe. Then innocent people wouldn’t have to die just because we’re trying to get revenge on one person. The other frat members may have played some part in it, after all.” 

 

Nodding again, Dean smiled a little. “I’ve heard they hang out in the library and in the commons, particularly in the British Isles.” The British Isles were a section of the University Center and food court that Castiel and Dean had named their freshman year. There were other sections, too: the Colonies, India, the Oasis… They had several nicknames for sections. “I was going to check that out soon, start following him around some when I’m not at work to see the best times and places to go to find him. Then once I had that information, it should be easy to plan a time and a day to do this.” He jotted down a couple more notes in his notebook before shutting it. “I still can’t believe you’re doing this with me.” 

 

Castiel sighed. “I’d do anything for you, Dean. You have to know that by now.” Dean didn’t say anything, and Castiel stood up. “Are you ready to go? I thought we could go eat somewhere and then maybe see a movie or something.” 

 

Dean nodded, still digesting the fact that his best friend was sacrificing his life to be with him. It was something he would have laughed off before, would have said there was no way Castiel fucking Novak would do such a thing. Apparently he had been mistaken. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved he wasn’t doing this alone or not. It didn’t sit right with him. After all, Castiel had done nothing wrong. Dean had; he hadn’t listened to Sam and had made a huge fucking deal about the hazing, had called their dad and had him yell at Sam. If he hadn’t… If he hadn’t done that, Sam might have been there. So it made sense for him to die just like Crowley. They were both guilty, and he was sure there were others guilty for it, as well. But Castiel? All Castiel did was care about them. He was innocent.  

 

“What about Gabriel?” he asked. 

 

“What about him?” Castiel responded, arching a brow. 

 

“You’re just going to leave him alone? He’ll lose three of his best friends if you do this.” 

 

“Gabriel will bounce back from it. I couldn’t live without you in my life. So I’m not even going to try.” Castiel shrugged. “I can’t be without you. You mean the world to me.” 

 

“Don’t say that.” Dean shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I don’t deserve to have someone think of me that way. Don’t even think like that.” 

 

Castiel just shrugged again. “Dinner and a movie?” His friend nodded, so they went inside gathered their wallets and Dean’s car keys. Dean always insisted on driving Baby any time they went out. He hated Castiel’s eco-friendly car. They went to eat at a Chinese place, and once they were finished they went to watch a horror movie. 

At first, Dean left Castiel in the dark about his plans, not believing he was actually going to do it. After a few days, though, Castiel set him straight. “You can’t let me do this with you if you leave me out of everything,” he told him. “I want to help, to be a part of this, but you have to let me actually  _do_  something.” 

 

Dean considered this. “I’m having a hard time tracking Crowley since I’m working. If you could figure out his schedule? I’m rarely on campus except on Wednesdays, as you know, so it’s hard for me to follow him around.”  

 

Castiel nodded. “I’m always on campus, so it will be easy for me. Even better—we have several classes together, so I can watch him more easily than you can.” 

 

“Great.” Dean smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Otherwise, I want to plan this on my own. And I decided just killing Crowley isn’t enough; I want to make him suffer. So I want to get him alone before we start shooting anyone. With bleach. _Then_  we’ll go out and kill those other bastards.” 

 

Castiel winced. “I’ve heard that’s the worst way to die, by drinking bleach.” 

 

“Exactly. It’s perfect. He needs to be in as much pain as possible.” He wrote down something in his notebook, and Castiel sighed. 

 

“If you say so,” he murmured. “I can’t say I disagree. I’m just not used to seeing this side of you.” 

 

Castiel took notes of the classes he had with Crowley and then began to follow him. Just as the rumors said, Crowley often frequented the library and the British Isles in the University Center. A group of guys from the former fraternity met in the Isles with him; fewer met with him at the library. He was often in the British Isles from five o’clock until eight o’clock on Tuesday and Thursday evenings hanging out or going to the recreation room downstairs to play pool with some of his frat brothers.  Castiel reported this to Dean, who seemed pleased with the information. He also reported that he was in the library from three-thirty in the afternoon until five o’clock in the evenings on Thursdays, when he left to go to the University Center. He knew the exact seats Crowley’s crew took and where Crowley normally sat in the library---fifth floor on the row of single desk cubicles in the back. If he wasn’t there, he would rent a study room. Castiel had the easiest time following him in the library; he worked there, after all. Crowley came in there a few other times during the week, but he was always sure to be there at the time Castiel had told Dean. Castiel got off work at five o’clock on Thursdays, and he often left just seconds before or after Crowley. It wouldn’t be weird for him to see Castiel there; Castiel had even had to help him sometimes. 

 

Dean decided they would attack on a Thursday. He would go to the library while Castiel would figure out a way to get Crowley in the bathroom on the fifth floor, and Dean would meet him there to kill Crowley. Then, after five, they would go to the British Isles and open fire on the fraternity brothers, and they would kill as many as possible before the police came. They weren’t going to be taken down by the police, though; they would kill themselves before that. Castiel wasn’t sure he’d have the guts to kill himself, but he would have to get used to the idea. 

 

Soon, Dean was ready. Castiel requested off work that day, stating he needed to work on some research for a paper. They picked up the guns: two Glock 19 9mm semiautomatics with silencers, two AR-15 .223 Caliber semiautomatics, and two Ruger Mini-14 .223 Caliber semiautomatics, each of them and the AR-15s loaded with thirty rounds. The rifles were left in the trunk of Baby, as was a fresh bottle of bleach. The bleach was small enough to fit in Dean’s backpack, so he put his bag in the trunk, as well. When the rifles were taken out, he was sure they wouldn’t have much time to get to the University Center, but thankfully there was a parking garage nearby. He’d park there, and they could take the pressure cooker to the fraternity house and set it up first, then go to the library. Once they were done there, they’d go back to the parking garage and get the guns and head to the University Center’s British Isles as fast as they could.

 

The night before this was to go down, they were in Castiel’s room with music playing. They were quiet for a while before Dean looked over at him. “I still can’t believe you’re doing this with me.” 

 

“Well, you better believe it. I wouldn’t let you do this by yourself. Not in a million years.” 

 

Castiel smiled weakly at Dean, who studied his face before leaning in and kissing him. Castiel returned the kiss, soft and slow, surprisingly sweet instead of desperate. The kiss broke long enough for each to take a breath, and then it resumed. The kisses grew deeper and needier, but they remained fairly gentle. Soon it wasn’t enough to just touch through clothes; they needed less between them. They decided it at the same time, and Dean pulled back to remove his shirt while Castiel did the same. Their pants and underwear came off next, and they lay nude together, kissing and touching.  

 

Sex had happened an increased amount in the two months since Sam died. It was mostly sober and they’d switch who was on top, but it had never been quite like this. Even the night Sam died was a rushed, hard need, not this slow, gentle need. They continued kissing and touching until Castiel reached for the lubricant. It was understood without saying a word that Dean was going to top this time. He took the lubricant, squeezing some on his fingers, and then set about preparing his partner, though he still kissed him. He could feel every hitched breath, the gasps and sighs as he stretched Castiel and occasionally brushed his prostate. They both were aroused, so he stroked Castiel in a slow rhythm, so slow it nearly drove Castiel crazy. He begged Dean to touch him more, or faster, or anything, but Dean completely ignored him.

 

When he was sure Castiel was ready, Dean removed his fingers. “Do you want me to use a condom this time?” he asked quietly, meeting Castiel’s gaze.

 

Castiel shook his head. “It’s not needed.” Dean bit his lip, then nodded once before kissing his friend again. He lined himself up, and carefully, carefully he pushed himself inside the other. Castiel groaned, but soon enough he told Dean to move. 

 

It wasn’t fucking this time. It wasn’t sex. Dean was so careful, so tender. This time, both of them were crying but neither acknowledged it. He kissed and caressed Castiel as if he were the most beautiful thing in the world and to Dean, he was, though he’d never admit it. Kisses rained over Castiel’s body, worshiping it in the only way he knew how. He jerked Castiel off at the same pace as he made love to him, and they finished at the same time. Dean moved to lie beside Castiel, still kissing his lips or his shoulder. They fell asleep like that, and when morning came, they stayed huddled underneath the covers through the morning and into the early afternoon, save for a bit of time when they emerged to eat with Gabriel. Castiel saw Gabriel off, then wrote him a note.  _I’m sorry, Gabe. I love you. I’ll always be with you._  Then they returned to the bedroom. 

 

They finally left at 3:30. Dean drove to the parking garage by the University Center and found a parking space. Flipping down the visor in the Impala, Dean looked at the pictures he’d put up there: the picture of him and Sam from Sam’s graduation and a picture of him, Sam, Castiel, and Gabriel together. He took them down, sticking them in his pocket, and got out of the car. He and Castiel each took a Glock, and Dean threw his backpack over one shoulder. They walked to the library, unable to think of anything to say or joke about. The silence was deafening, but it was also… sort of comforting. Castiel could pretend this was just a bad dream with the silence. Dean took a seat near the restrooms so he could see who entered and exited it but he wouldn’t be noticed, and he waited. Castiel walked over to the seats where Crowley frequented. Sure enough, he was there. 

 

“Crowley.” 

 

The young man looked up coolly, not trying to mask his annoyance. “What?” 

 

“Can you help me real quick? I had a question about the assignment for Lit. Since you’re the best in the class, I thought you could help me.” 

 

Crowley rolled his eyes, but since he was one to take any form of flattery, he got up. “Where are you sitting?” 

 

“Over by the restrooms.” 

 

Crowley nodded. “Let me go use the restroom, and then I’ll find you.” 

 

“Thanks, Crowley.” He watched Crowley go to the restroom and followed like he was going to his seat. Castiel motioned to Dean, and he stood, coming over to the restroom with his backpack. When Crowley turned away from the urinal after using it, he arched his brow.

 

“You boys wanting to compare dangly bits or some shit, or is there another reason you’re in here?” 

 

“Oh, there’s a reason.” Dean crowded Crowley, and he pulled out a pair of handcuffs that Castiel hadn’t seen him bring. Crowley tried to get around him, but Dean was too fast, and soon he was handcuffed to a urinal. 

 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Crowley spat.  

 

“I’m getting revenge for my brother’s death. Sam Winchester, do you remember him? It was your idea for hazing that got him killed.” 

 

Crowley’s face paled. He tried to reason with Dean, but Dean wasn’t listening to a word he had to say. Instead, he pulled out the bottle of bleach. “Watch the door, Cas.” 

 

Castiel nodded, turning his back on the scene. Dean uncapped the bottle, gripped Crowley’s jaw tightly, and forced him to open his mouth. Crowley was making a lot of noise, but it wasn’t loud enough to attract attention outside of the bathroom, and Dean muffled it as best he could. He poured the bleach down Crowley’s throat and Crowley tried screaming. It was a gargled, muffled sound as Dean gripped his mouth and continued pouring bleach. It spilled everywhere, but he didn’t care. After the entire bottle had been emptied, he pulled out his gun.

 

“Go to hell, Crowley,” he growled, and then he shot Crowley three times in the head with the silencer before leaving his body and going to Castiel. “Let’s go.” Castiel nodded, refusing to look back, and they left the library. Nobody was near the bathrooms to hear the commotion, so they left without confrontation. 

 

Their next stop was to the parking garage to get the guns out of Baby’s trunk. “This is it,” Dean said softly. 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

They were quiet for a minute, and then Dean sighed. “Thank you, Cas.” 

 

“You know I’m always happy to follow the Winchesters.” Castiel gave him a weak smile before kissing Dean. They kissed a few times before Dean pulled away. 

 

“We’ve got work to do. It’s five o’clock.” 

 

“Yeah. Okay.” They each got two guns aside from the Glocks they were holding and hustled through the parking garage and into the University Center entrance closest to the British Isles. People screamed when they saw the guns, panicked and ran, or called 911. 

Dean and Castiel didn’t open fire until they reached the British Isles; then they sprayed all the bullets they had in the guns. Screams rang out; people ran and hid to avoid the bullets. Blood and pieces of bones flew, part of the shrapnel of the scene. The twelve members of the fraternity that were there were killed, several more innocents injured in the process. When they heard the police arrive, they dropped their guns and turned to watch the police come in.  

 

“This is it, Cas,” he repeated. 

 

Castiel nodded. “I love you, Dean." 

 

Dean started, looking over at Castiel. “What?” 

 

“I’ve always loved you, Dean.” 

 

He was quiet for a moment. “I love you, too, Cas.” He might as well admit it since they were seconds away from dying, right? The police were coming; he could hear them pounding through the halls. 

 

“Goodbye, Dean.” Dean looked over to see Castiel raising his Glock. 

 

“Bye, Cas. See you on the other side,” he said quietly. Castiel smiled a bit, took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes closed, and then as Dean watched, he pressed the barrel to his temple and pulled the trigger. Blood, bones, and bits of brain exploded out of the other side of his head, and he crumpled to the ground. “Fuck,  _Cas_ ,” he whispered, eyes filling with tears. Dean looked up, seeing the police yelling and entering the British Isles. 

 

Dean sat down, took Castiel’s hand, and before they could shoot him, he raised his own Glock. He cocked the gun and pressed it to his temple.  

 

_Bang._

 

_ _

**Author's Note:**

> ***SPOILER WARNING***  
> This story involves a school shooting. If you are sensitive to that, you may not want to read this story.


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